


The Evening Earworm Tune Cruise: Shadowhunters Edition, September 2017

by Fluxx



Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Inspired by Music, M/M, Malec, clace, prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-05
Updated: 2017-09-05
Packaged: 2018-12-24 08:54:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12009336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fluxx/pseuds/Fluxx
Summary: Compilation of responses from September 2017'sThe Evening Earworm Tune Cruiseprompts event. Prompts consisted of:A Shadowhunter's ShipA songAll responses can be found onmy tumblrunder the tag#The Tune Cruise!





	1. Sleep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Malec + _[Sleep](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c_w4A_9Gnnk)_ by Poets of the Fall
>
>> _Sleep, sugar, let your dreams flood in_   
>  _Like waves of sweet fire, you’re safe within_   
>  _Sleep, sweetie, let your floods come rushing in_   
>  _And carry you over to a new morning_

“There is  _nothing_  ugly about you.”

Of course, words alone were hardly enough. Any kind soul could easily offer them, and the question of sincerity was another matter entirely. The fact was there was, indeed, much about Magnus Bane that could be called “ugly” - after all, one might argue it was the presence of such flaws which kept him truly human.

But it wasn’t just words. It wasn’t just some off-handed pleasantry, and it wasn’t just any kind soul. They were spoken with a sure, unwavering gaze, one which refused to lose his own. They were held with a strong, bracing hand, one which held steady not just his quivering face but the erratic beating of his heart. Beyond simple words, there was a fortress, one guarded by a shimmering and winged knight, and he knew that within that fortress was a place of quiet solitude, of peace. A place where he could run away, hide… sleep.

When he finally breathed, it was a sigh heavy with emotion, more than he knew what to do with. As Alec at last braved the distance between him, Magnus all but fell forward into his securing arms, his face instinctively leaning into the crook of Alec’s neck. He could feel Alec’s arms tightening, the doors of his fortress slowly drawing closed and shutting out the rest of the noisy, hideous world, and for the first time in days he could feel his eyes grow heavy.

The stray tremble still disturbed him, but Alec banished every last one with the gentle rubbing of his back. “It’s alright, Magnus. It’s okay.”

A genuine smile turned Magnus’s lips, though Alec couldn’t see it. The poor Shadowhunter was trying so hard to make everything right, and yet Magnus knew he probably didn’t even know what he’d done to do just that. Alec had never really been the touchy-feely type, and Magnus suspected if that ever changed it wouldn’t be because Alec had intended such, but it was by that very unique facet of Alexander Lightwood that the fortress had at last been built.

It wasn’t that Magnus possessed no ugliness. Rather, it was that he, Magnus Bane, was so much more than simply that, and it was in the full,  _complete_  “you” that Alec found beauty. Alec didn’t think him beautiful despite his flaws, but rather because of them - because of the man those very same flaws crafted Magnus Bane to be. Ultimately, it was knowing this that at last began to chip away at his darkness and set him walking, timid though he still was, down the long and difficult path of acceptance rather than denial.

All along the way, this fortress would still stand for him to rest in, until one day he too could join the knight at its doors and protect its charge.

“I’m tired,” he murmured. The words fell out of him, as though they hadn’t needed his tongue or lips to form.

Alec scoffed, giving Magnus a small squeeze. “I bet you are.”

“Do I… Do I have time… for a nap… ?”

“Yeah, that— ” Alec wavered, the full of Magnus’s weight unexpectedly leaning against his torso. He raised a brow and craned his neck as best he could. He confirmed his suspicions with a smirk, already adjusting to lift Magnus up into his arms.

Magnus Bane, the all-powerful High Warlock of Brooklyn, was asleep at last.

“That should be just fine,” Alec finished with a soft whisper, carrying him easily towards their bed. The hour of Valentine’s transfer was fast approaching, but until then? His boyfriend was going to get his damn beauty sleep.


	2. PLEDGE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Malec + [_PLEDGE_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PI9pAzc9Njs) by The GazettE
>
>> _Kimi wa mienai asu ni tomadoi_   
>  _Koe wo age, naiteita ne_   
>  _Kotoba wo sagasu koto mo dekizu ni_   
>  _Ochiru namida wo hirotta_
>
>> _You are lost because you cannot see tomorrow_   
>  _Raising your voice you were crying_   
>  _Without being able to find any words I just caught your tears_

The sounds of the Hunter’s Moon drifted lazily behind them, growing faint and distant with their every step. They enjoyed their languid stroll hand-in-hand, their fingers and thumbs hardly able to believe they were no longer alone. How long had it been since Alec had felt cold metal and faceted jewels at his fingertips? How long had Magnus gone without a tall and quiet presence looming beside him like a dragon guarding its hoard? As much as it had taken getting used to the sudden absence of those things, now there was a struggle to return to that comfort, as if their hearts were still watching out for the first sign this was all a dream, some sick trap to do them in once and for all.

But it was a good struggle, one that reminded them things were on the mend, that they  _were_  getting better, bit by bit. Like the ice that had once consumed an entire age, they at last held their torches to the distance they’d built between them, melting it away bit by tiny bit and recovering all the millions of stray manners, remarks, senses, feelings they hadn’t realized they’d been missing.

The way Alec had to compensate for his longer stride. The way Magnus couldn’t feel his rings against the insides of his own fingers. The way Alec’s cold-plumed breath occasionally misted the edges of Magnus’s sight. The way Magnus’s cologne and hair product tinged the air with a toxic but somehow addictive scent.

It was a long and leisurely stroll through the cool, night air, one filled with chiding remarks, sweet nothings, and content sighs. By the time they finally reached Magnus’s loft, they’d both had plenty of time to think and reflect, though they’d both mostly kept their musings to themselves. In part, it was because they were both tired and weary of too many things that were far too complicated, and wanted to relish this stretch of serene sweetness for as long as possible. In part, it was because the things they’d said, the things they’d expressed, they felt too deeply to be fully explored out in the open, for fear too many emotions would spill out upon a world to which they were weary of being beholden to.

Magnus stepped through the door first, wandering towards the center of the foyer while Alec pulled the door shut behind them. He closed his eyes and felt the air around him, its stony chill gradually fading away in the presence of Alec’s pervasive light. In a way, it terrified him - the sterile void was familiar, predictable,  _comfortable_. Yet, it was that very terror that excited him, that kept him orbiting around this person who remained so peculiar, so surprising - not comfortable, but rather exciting,  _enticing_. In some ways, this man gave him strength - in others, it made him vulnerable, as was the case in this very moment.

Slowly, hesitantly, he opened his eyes and turned around, gazing timidly up into Alec’s eyes.

At once, worry overtook Alec, and he closed the remaining space between them in a single, hurried bound, large hands lifting to hold Magnus’s face. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

Magnus’s lips moved to try to speak, belatedly realizing he didn’t know what to say - or rather, how to say it. He blinked, wet his lips, then tried again. “Did you mean it, Alexander?”

Alec frowned, a thumb lightly stroking Magnus’s glittered cheek. “Mean what?”

“That thing you said. About…” He faltered, his eyes falling as whatever bravery he had left him. “…About not living without me.”

Alec stilled, his hands sliding down from Magnus’s face to rest upon his shoulders. A slight tremble seeped into his voice. “I… I’m sorry, was… was that too much… ?” He remembered how worried Magnus had been their first time together. Was he being too needy?

“N-No, not at all!” Magnus quickly replied, his hands suddenly finding themselves upon Alec. One laid around Alec’s side, the other clutched the collar of his jacket. “Quite the contrary. I…” He thought over the past few days, about how they’d allowed trial and tribulation to wedge between them. A faint smile turned his lips, and Alec glimpsed a faint wetness forming at the corner of his eye. “…Cling to that. Hardship and conflict will never go away, and it’s in those times where the people we love matter most. It’s… been so long since I last had someone like that, and in my old age… Well, I suppose I could occasionally use the reminding I’m not alone anymore. So, don’t let me push you away again?”

The silence that followed fed Magnus’s anxiety. Was he being too burdensome? Finally, tearfully, he willed his eyes back up, just in time to realize Alec was thoughtfully looking him over.

“Mmm… I’d say thirty,  _tops_.”

Alec snickered, and Magnus smirked, throwing a playful shove to his chest. “I’m being serious!”

To his surprise, Alec’s hands caught his arms as he stumbled back, and his feet circled the floor. They both twisted around, and with Magnus’s weight adding to their momentum they fell back upon the couch, Alec catching the edge with the back of his knees and Magnus collapsing upon his lap. Instinctively, Magnus made to right himself, for fear he was crushing Alec, but Alec’s arms had formed a tight brace around him, pinning his own arms against Alec’s torso and his whole self in general in Alec’s lap.

“I know you are,” Alec grinned. “Don’t let you push me, right?” He slowly adjusted them as Magnus enjoyed a light and sparkling chuckle, laying the Warlock down upon the couch like he was a delicate princess he’d just seized from some faraway castle. His knees dug into the cushions at either side of Magnus’s legs, a forearm laying upon the armrest to hold himself upright and his hand stroking the backs of his knuckles admiringly along the side of Magnus’s face.

All humor subsided as they ate each other up, taking in every fleeting detail until their hearts had swollen beyond prior capacity. Alec felt like the luckiest man in the world, still unable to fathom how someone so powerful, so capable, so  _infinite_  had come to treasure someone as small and insignificant as him. Reflecting on his errors, he felt like he hardly deserved Magnus’s tolerance, much less his love, and his brow curled somberly. “Likewise… don’t you ever let me behave like just another self-absorbed, ignorant Shadowhunter again. I want to be different from all the others.”

Magnus’s eyes gleamed up at him. “You  _are_  different, Alexander. But…” A wry smile curled his lips, his fingers toying with the edge of Alec’s shirt as the glamour fell away from his eyes. “…If you want to be  _sure_ , you can start by not leaving your boyfriend waiting.”

Alec scoffed, mostly to cover the shiver that shimmering yellow threw down his spine. Slowly, he lowered, eyes slipping shut and one last, low whisper bridging them together again at last.

“Of course.”


	3. You Are My Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clace + [_You Are My Love_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9Z_LefRx3hE) by Yui Makino
>
>> _In your eyes_   
>  _I search for my memory_   
>  _Lost in vain_   
>  _So far in the scenery_   
>  _Hold me tight,_   
>  _And swear again and again_   
>  _We’ll never be apart_

Darkness.

Packed under his fingernails. Coursing through his veins. Stinging across his eyes.

Enough to bring him to his knees upon the harsh sidewalk, trembling and screaming in his desperate attempts to keep the agony at bay.

“Jace?”

His face whirled, hands planted upon the ground. Though pained tears still blurred his vision, he saw her more than clearly enough. Perhaps it was the song her voice, or the cool of her touch, or the light of her pure, Angelic soul. Whatever the reason, Clary chased away the darkness like a witchlight stone, so bright it nearly blinded him.

“Jace, what’s wrong?”

His labored breathing heaved his chest, but nonetheless he managed a smile, finally pushing himself off the ground to sit back on his knees. “Nothing.”

She scowled, and he remembered how much he’d loved to tease and chide her, just to get her to make that expression, to get her to make  _any_  expression, to know she had done so by his hand. “Right, and Santa Claus is a Warlock with nothing better to do than spy on little children.”

“Uhh,  _duh_?” he jeered. “You didn’t think a Mundane was capable of all that, did you? I mean, think of the chimneys!”

“Chimneys?” Her brow furrowed in mock confusion. “Didn’t you hear? He switched to those new delivery drones. Now, even the chimney-less children can get presents!”

It was Jace’s turn to scowl. “Not fair.  _I’m_  supposed to be the one with the sharp wit.”

She shrugged, adjusting to sit beside him on the cement, arms upon her raised knees. “Life’s not fair.” For a moment, she let the silence hang between them, watching the people walking down the street in sweet, ignorant bliss. It allowed him to stare at her, completely unguarded, studying every strand of fiery hair and flush of freckled skin as if it were all about to slip away through his fingertips.

“I won’t press you,” she said at last, startling him from his dazed stupor. “I know you won’t tell me if I do…” She turned to look at him, narrowly missing his scramble to recompose himself. “…but also that you  _will_  tell me when you’re ready to. You will, right?”

His every insecurity raced across his golden eyes, and he was certain Clary saw it, but nonetheless he put on a cocky smile, and moved his hand to lay upon her shoulder. “I told you, Clary. I’m alright. You don’t have to worry.”

Clary sighed, and in that one breath he knew she was calling his bullshit. “Okay.”

Truth be told, he did feel a  _little_  guilty about it. But how could he burden her with this… this whatever it was. He’d already put her through so much by fucking dying, and she’d given up literally anything in the world just for him. His life was her victroy, her triumph, the one thing she wanted more than anything else. How could he take that from her?

“I’m sorry,” he murmured softly, surprising her with his apology. He knew she didn’t know what he was sorry for, but also that it ultimately didn’t matter. “I just…” He blinked, eyes flickering over her once more, a more genuine smile taking over his stony mask. “I guess I’m still having difficulty believing all of this is real.”

At that, she grinned, and the sparkle of her eyes made his soul soar.  _Please. Do what you want with me, but never let her stop smiling._

“Well, here,” she chuckled turning to face him and leaning in closer. “Maybe this will help.

Her eyes slipped shut, and only after they were completely hidden away did he finally follow suit, not wanting to miss a single moment of their vibrant gleam. The feel of her soft lips pressing against his own sent his heart racing, filling every fiber of his being with literal life.

The darkness still lurked in the far recesses of his mind, but there they remained. For now, at least.

_I’m alive. I have to be._


	4. Kiss Me Before I Fucking Lose My Mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Malec + [_Kiss Me Before I Fucking Lose My Mind_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z_d-xamZAgA) by Charlie Puth
>
>> _I’m done_   
>  _Playing these games_   
>  _I can’t believe what I’m about to say_   
>  _I won’t tell you goodbye_   
>  _With my love left behind_   
>  _Kiss me before I_   
>  _Fucking lose my_   
>  _Mind_

_And when that love comes back to you, you must do everything in your power to fight for it._

The echo raced through his mind, running circles around him like a record that refused to stop spinning. He was thankful for it, really - if ever Ragnor’s voice fell truly silent, he feared his nerves would fizzle out once more, the way they had time and time again throughout the past day. Alec had  _told_  him to stop, that it wouldn’t happen…

…But had he not also said he trusted Magnus? Did not the dark cloud looming over his head part when he saw Magnus, letting slip the thinnest ray of sunshine? Did not something more wrestle behind those dark eyes like a caged songbird, begging to soar and grant the world the gift of its song?

Magnus stepped through the portal and down onto the pavement just outside the Institute. In the moonlight, he glittered as brightly as the stars dancing in the infinite sea of black - he’d cycled through no less than five ensembles, searching for the absolute  _best_  presentation his magic could conjure. Everything had to be perfect, for the same reason he was even doing this in the first place:

Of all the fates an immortal could suffer, regret was by far the worst.

But time was running out, and the wards preventing him from portaling directly into the ceremony hall were trying his patience. With Ragnor’s words powering his every stride, he raced through the Institute’s heavy, wooden doors and bound into a nearly empty war room. Only a single Shadowhunter was stationed here, standing guard should any threats call for alarm. When the young warrior spotted Magnus, their eyes shot wide with equal parts fear and knowing - the Warlock’s purpose was clear, and the consequences for getting in his way dire.

“Th-That way!” the startled Shadowhunter stammered, throwing a frantic finger in the direction of the ceremony hall.

Magnus forced a tight-lipped smile that looked more like a grimmace. “Thank you.”

This was Alec’s last chance - Magnus’s last chance. It would have to be. After this, Magnus will have truly tried everything in his power to urge Alec out of hiding, out of his shame and embarrassment. If even still Alec chose Lydia, and completed the union runes, then Magnus would have no choice but to let go of this flame and allow it to die.

But not yet.

_Not while there’s still a chance. Not while he’s still in doubt, while he’s still wavering. He’s on the edge, I know it - he just needs to take that leap of faith. And then, I just need to catch him._

He paused for but a brief moment just outside the ceremony hall. His hands laid upon the smooth surface, thrumming softly from the sheer power that coursed throughout the entire Institute. In a way, it was grounding, keeping Magnus anchored to this horrid and painful earth, but it did nothing to slow the beating of his heart, nor the trembling of his lips. He took a deep breath, gathering his every ounce of strength… and at last threw himself over the cliff.

The doors slammed open with a loud boom. He could hear the hushed surprise even before he rounded the corner. He almost didn’t want to look up, fearing what he’d see, but he forced himself to. There, at the end of the velvet, red carpet, he stood tall and proud. Firm. Strong. He met and held Alec’s gaze, and though it made his heart skip a beat he dared not waver - not, at least, until Maryse Lightwood stood and bounded angrily towards him.

He barely even registered her words as he turned his venom upon her, his anxiety piling on more acid than he perhaps intended. “Maryse, this is between me and your son.” The interruption addressed, he looked back to the soul who’d so recently become his obsession, the sun around which he could not help but orbit.

Standing there, before that bright and blazing glory, surrounded by stars, moons, planets that all stared at him in tense silence, he felt his every insecurity worming their way back up from beneath his barriers. He swore Alec must have seen it in his eyes, upon his lips, among his subtly trembling fingers. Even still, he did what he could to keep it from his voice, knowing this was his  _only_  chance to show Alec he… no,  _they_ … would be strong enough together to fight off every judgement, every question, every doubt.

He refused to be the one to say “goodbye.” If so hideous a sentence were to be delivered, then let it be by Alec’s own lips, here and now before everyone.

“I’ll leave if he asks me too.”

_But, please… don’t._


	5. Hot Stuff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Malec + [_Hot Stuff_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P518rLHH73Q) by Donna Summer
>
>> _Lookin’ for a lover who needs another_   
>  _Don’t want another night on my own_   
>  _Wanna share my love with a warm blooded lover_   
>  _Wanna bring a wild man back home_

Another night, another prowl, just like every night the week before, and the week before that. A drink in one hand, a neck in the other, and not a care in the world. It was a life Magnus had long since come to relish, asserting his rule over this dark kingdom so long ago he’d practically forgotten exactly when it’d all begun.

And he was content in his palace. The lightshows ranging across every color imaginable, the mist that faded reason into feeling, the addicting cocktail of alochol and drugs and adrenaline driving his heart to every beat the DJ spun. He wore his best outfits, a huge range of them that all glittered and sparkled and declared for all the club to see exactly who this eccentric creature was, and what he meant to the very night itself, and what the night meant to him in return. This place, this state of being, this storm of twisting bodies and urgently-panted nothings was his, and his alone, and it pleased him.

But, occasionally, the mist failed to blind, the drinks failed to consume, and his subjects failed to delight. Every kiss left behind a sour aftertaste, and every potion he downed gifted him but a mere buzz, not the full and carefree stupor he chased. On such nights, an irritability would inevitably set in, and he could tell within the first few hours his bed would remain cold, his spirit dark, and his thirst craving.

It was unwise, to say the very least, to disturb the High Warlock of Brooklyn’s decadent den on such nights. And yet, miraculously, someone almost always did - perhaps because someone always  _was_  regardless of the night, or perhaps because the Lord of Lust’s hunger  _refused_  to starve, one way or another.

On this night, it was the tinge of Angels that wrinkled his nose and earned his scowl.  _Shadowhunters_ , he thought bitterly.  _Here to ruin my fun, no doubt._  A groping hand found his glass instead of his chest, and he offered hardly an acknowledging nod as he fluidly lifted from his throne. The beat pulsing through the club powered the sweep of his feet, the back of his mind coasting along its rhythm: the powerful croon of Donna Summer’s voice was the fire burning in his chest, and so long her song fueled the club so, too, would his veins course with rampant magic.

As he tore through the gyrating club, the sting of Angelic energies tainting the air grew ever more potent. His keen, hawkish eyes caught a fleeting, suited form - and, in particular, the wretched scar forming a perfect eclipse upon the side of his neck. Another night, to another song, Magnus might have switched to a craftier, more subtle approach, but on this night, to  _this_  song? His lips pulled back into a vile snarl, the glamour falling from his eyes to let yellow light gleam ominously in the diffused smog.

_The Circle._

Outside, the man walked with a restrained gait, discretely pocketing a small vial in his jacket’s inside pocket. He couldn’t tell just what had driven up his anxiety, just that he felt and urge to get far, far away from this place, one that combated his need to remain casual and inconspicuous. He turned the corner, polished shoes splashing through a shallow puddle from the night’s earlier shower. With the alley’s shroud swallowing him, he heaved a relieved sigh, his pace slowing to a steady stroll.

He’d made it out of sight.

Just a few blocks now to the rendezvous point.

_Splish_.

Surprise gripped him, and soon thereafter terror froze him. His hand dove under his jacket to grab his Seraph blade, but by the time his fingertips graced the cool, familiar metal of its hilt someone  _else’s_  fingertips burst through his chest, their jeweled rings glinting wickedly beneath their brilliantly white-hot magic. A blood-clogged cough choked out of him, and then a grunt as the hand disappeared back through his chest, leaving him to crumple lifelessly to the ground.

Magnus frowned, crouching over the fallen man. “You’ve soiled my clothes,” he muttered disdainfully, eyeing the thick blood lazily dripping from his hand.. Even out here, the club’s music filled the air, only barely subdued by the building brick walls - he suspected the open side door further down the alley was much to blame for that. Even as he mused over it, more suited men came spilling out, emerging from whatever scouting positions they’d once held. His snarl returned as he rose to his feet, all but hypnotized by the urge of the driving song twisting through the cold night.

He marched to meet them head on, snakeskin shoes crunching like the grinding of teeth against the rain-slicked gravel. One hand threw a ball of jolting energy, leaving a trail of burning ozone before impaling one man in the chest. The other hand drew a small switchblade from his sequined belt - magic was nice and all, but a weapon was more efficient, decisive, and  _far_  less tiring. He’d never admit it, but with the unfulfilling night he’d been having a small part of him wished the line of Circle grunts would never end, and that he’d never tire, not until the whole alley had received a new, crimson paint job.

Like a serpent born from the lands of his childhood, he danced from Shadowhunter to corrupted Shadowhunter, only narrowly missing the sweeps of their glowing blades and catching the sleek edge of his own wherever he could. One of them caught the side of his blazer, shearing the elegant silk clear through, but he paid it little mind - the thing was already ruined by the splatter of blood, and anyway had failed in its mission to lure adequate companionship to his side.

One Circle drone fell, overcome at last with an orange whip of magic buzzing forth from Magnus’s palm and slashing down across the man’s back. He heard the enraged yell of another charging him from behind, and he spun, sinking his blade deep into the man’s gut. He grunted slightly, suddenly burdened with the man’s dead weight - disgusted, he pushed himself out from under him and let the man’s body smack upon the ground beside his fellow. His chest heaved, pulling precious air into his lungs, furiously feline eyes bearing down upon his victims. Through the open door, he could still hear Donna Summer, her song wrapping him as if in a warm and comforting embrace.

He caught the flash of white light against the alley’s wall only at the very last moment.

His eyes widened and he whirled, but in his heart he knew he was too slow.

_So this is how my reign ends?_  he thought, even as he threw up his switchblade and summoned blue fire to his palm.

But then, rather than the slice of a sword Magnus faced the spray of heavy droplets. A stray thought considered it might be rain, but it was dashed as the distinct hint of iron glanced his tongue. The white glow faded, and suddenly the man collapsed without ever bringing the weapon down upon him. Magnus quickly took a few steps back, giving the final Circle member room to fall, and as he watched his brow furrowed, catching a thin, steady line that ended in chevron feathers.

_An arrow?_

He realized he wasn’t alone just seconds before the voice spoke.

“Are you alright?”

Quickly, he drew his glamour back across his eyes and looked up, blinking in part from his magic and in part from his surprise. He wasn’t sure what he expected to find - certainly not another Shadowhunter, staring and breathless, expression completely bared and unguarded and pure.

“…What?”

The Shadowhunter looked somewhat exasperated, but nonetheless hooked his bow over his shoulder and kept his voice calm and composed as he approached. “I said, are you alright? Did they hurt you?”

Magnus blinked, looking back around the alley. Belatedly, he realized the song had drawn to a close, melting into some other tune and taking with it the fire that had been compelling him. His pulse returned to normal, and as he took his time scaling back up this new Shadowhunter’s body he felt the corners of his lips begin to turn. “…Yes. I mean, I’m fine. They didn’t hurt me.”

The young man sighed. “Good. I was afraid I might have been too late.”

Magnus was smiling. Swiftly, he took back his control of his character, turning into a cocky smirk. “Magnus Bane. A pleasure to meet you.”

His greeting was met with a chuckle, a simple and oddly quaint sound he wasn’t used to hearing follow his name. “Alec,” the Shadowhunter replied. “Alec Lightwood.”

He had always been content in his palace. But now, he finally understood, he had never been truly happy.


	6. Take Me or Leave Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Malec + [_Take Me or Leave Me_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gcXvYMxXvz8) by Idina Menzel and Tracie Thoms
>
>> _Ever since puberty_   
>  _Everybody stares at me_   
>  _Boys girls I can’t help it baby_   
>  _So be kind and don’t lose your mind_   
>  _Just remember that I’m your baby_

Alec shifted uncomfortably at the bar, fingers anxiously spinning the bottle before him.  _This was a terrible idea_ , he thought, unable to stop watching Magnus for any longer than a few seconds - just brief enough to down another swig of his beer. Currently, the High Warlock of Brooklyn was engaged in energetic conversation with what Alec guessed was one of the Fair Folk. From this far away, it was difficult to tell exactly, what with the club’s smoke-diffused lighting and the rapid sweep of bodies between him and them, but he could see well enough that she was beautiful in all the conventional ways.

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Magnus - not at all. After all they’d been through, he knew Magnus would never intentionally hurt him. Well, not unless Alec gave him good reason to. At that, he frowned, turning briefly back to his beer before his eyes inevitably snapped back to the pair growing steadily more and more lost in the crowd.  _ **Did**  I do something?_ Unable to help himself, he plunged through conversation after old and tired conversation.

_Seelies, Warlocks, Vampires… a Djinn or two._

Mundanes, he could deal with. Shadowhunters? No problem - friendly, reasonable competition perhaps. But Downworlders? Most of them were far older than Mundanes and Shadowhunters, far more  _experienced_ , and the fact was they were capable of certain things he would never be. Especially Djinns, he thought with widened eyes. He could only imagine what Magnus might have been able to find in the arms of a Djinn, things Alec couldn’t even dream of providing. His confidence thoroughly deflated, he finished his beer and finally tore his gaze away from Magnus for the last time.

Alec didn’t belong here. He was a fool to think he ever could.

Light laughter followed every slip of witty banter, accompanied by friendly pats and nudges or sly winks. All empty, of course, just light fun with some old friends. Innocent humor that would never go anywhere, in part because Magnus honestly wasn’t interested in it… and in part because a fraction of his mind kept leaning him over just a bit, kept averting his gaze past the beauties around him.

“Magnus,” his current Seelie companion purred, her hand gliding along his cheek. “What is wrong? You seem…” She looked him over, and a distantly curious look infected her gaze. “…distracted.” She turned to follow his gaze, craning his neck towards the bar. “Is he here? Your latest pet?”

Magnus scoffed, playfully batting her hand away. “He’s not a ‘pet,’ dear. I love him, I truly do!”

“Of course you do,” she snickered. Then, returning to her mild interest, “Where is he?”

By the time she asked, his spirit had already fallen, and his cheer along with it. “It seems he has vacated the premises,” he muttered lowly.

“Such a shame,” the Seelie cooed, laying her hand upon his shoulder. “Was he not enjoying himself? I would think one so short-lived as he would grasp for any minute he could to be with his beloved.”

_You’re not wrong_ , a stray thought mused. He blinked it away and wove his hand to dismiss himself. “I had better go find him. Lovely catching up with you, dear.”

He scoured the whole club as he fled the scene, though he held little hope he’d actually find Alec still lingering in its crowd. Even without speaking to the man, Magnus knew what was bothering him - his wide range of friends, and the intimacy with which he interacted with them. A part of him did feel bad about it, not because there was anything wrong with it but because he was sympathetic to the inherent differences between the long-lived and the short. The fact of the matter was Magnus’s acquaintances were closer than most mortals’ friends, and his friends were closer than even that. There were certain things Mundanes, Shadowhunters, and to a lesser extent Werewolves simply couldn’t sympathize with, things not even Alec could sympathize with despite his commendable effort to try.

_Maybe we’re too…_

Alec had never finished the thought himself, but he hadn’t needed to. Their differences were undeniable, things they knew deep down in their very souls even if they couldn’t rightly identify those things specifically. Magnus had meant it when he told Alec the young Shadowhunter’s lack of experience didn’t matter to him, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt when Magnus’s way of life, the socialization he’d grown so used for more decades than Alec had even been alive, pushed Alec away. One could only remain so paranoid before starting to truly wonder if he was simply too much for Alec and his relatively much more conservative lifestyle.

Magnus didn’t fit there. He was a fool to think he ever could.

Alec was leaning against the club’s exterior wall, hands shoved in his pockets and head hung in deep thought, when Magnus emerged out into the night. “Hey,” the Warlock greeted with his warmest smile. “What happened?”

Hesitant, soft eyes lifted to spot Magnus, and below them gentle lips parted with half-formed thoughts. Alec’s gaze wavered, searching for the right thing to say, and when he finally found it he couldn’t say it to Magnus’s face. He looked away, distracting himself with the way the stars flickered behind passing planes and birds and the like. “…I know I’m not good enough, Magnus,” he finally replied. “You don’t need to restrain yourself just to be with me.”

Magnus blinked, though he couldn’t honestly say he was surprised by the remark, fairly predictable of a thing as it was for Alec to say. “Alec, stop. You’re plenty ‘good enough’ - more than,” he insisted. He rounded Alec to try and catch his gaze. When that wasn’t quite enough, he lifted a hand to cup Alec’s face, guiding it back down from the skyline. “Listen. I’m not ‘restrained’ by being with you. This relationship? It’s a choice that I make, every single day, to remain in.”

Alec frowned. “You have to ask yourself that every day?”

Magnus couldn’t keep the hurt from his eyes. “That’s not what I meant, Alexander, and you know that.” He turned pleading then, hands falling to find Alec’s wrists. “Please, we’ve been over this before. They’re just friends of mine, and nothing more - I would never  _dream_  of being with anyone else but you.”

“But  _they_  dream of being with  _you_ ,” Alec murmured softly. “I see the way they look at you, the way they…” He hesitated, wrestling with himself. “…the way they desire you. And I can’t honestly blame them,” he added with a resigned scoff, allowing himself to look over Magnus in all his glittering glory. “You’re  _beautiful_ , Magnus. It’s selfish of me to try and keep someone so vast and infinite all to myself.”

Magnus smiled, his hand lifting to lightly stroke Alec’s cheek with his thumb. “Even when you’re gloomy, you still manage to touch my heart with your sincerity.” His hand moved to the back of Alec’s neck, and he pressed his forehead against Alec’s. “ _That’s_  why I love you, Alexander. Why I need you. No one in the world treats me the way you do, not in all my centuries of life. That’s not something any amount of experience can just  _make happen_.”

Alec opened his eyes, and at last gazed directly into Magnus’s. The Warlock could see the lingering hesitation, and so to prove his point he lowered his glamour, letting Alec see the gleaming, feline eyes only a  _very_  select few ever did without promptly dying. They’d become symbolic of something deeper, more vulnerable, a place only Alec could call upon when he needed or even just wanted to see it.

Finally, a faint smile turned Alec’s lips. “I hate that we keep doing this,” he muttered, his hands finding their ways to Magnus’s hips. “Will it ever end?”

Magnus considered the question as carefully as he could. There was no easy answer to it, of course, a thing he admitted with widened eyes and a shake of his head. “We just need to… learn to accept each other, and  _ourselves_ , for who we are.”

“Do you think we  _can_?” Alec murmured, voice soft and quivering. His hands tightened, clutching the folds of Magnus’s silk shirt.

The Warlock’s expression crumpled in kind, fraught with worry.

“I hope so.”


End file.
